


What The Hel Is Going On?

by misreall



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Divine troublemaking, F/M, Kissing, Loki-freeform - Freeform, Mischief, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Worship, being cursed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:03:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/pseuds/misreall
Summary: In a world where all of the old gods are very real, and very, very annoying, Honoria makes a mistake that brings her to the attention of the most annoying god of them all.





	What The Hel Is Going On?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sanguineous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguineous/gifts).



> Dedicated to Sanguineous and her beautiful tattoo.
> 
> No offense meant to Loki or His worshipers, nor is any of it meant to reflect their actual practices.

It was the most important rule of life and Honoria Eala had fucked it right up.

Never do anything that would make one of the gods notice you.

You could always tell the people who had somehow broken this rule, either accidentally, like Nor had, or through hubris.  They all had that aura about them of the uncanny and hazardous, like being in a building where a fire was smoldering behind a closed door, just waiting for someone to open it and burn everything to the ground.

Not that it was always terrible when it happened.  Nor’s fourth-grade teacher, Mr. Wójcik had been noticed by Bast when he saved a bindle of kittens that had been tossed in the garbage.  Because of her gaze falling on him, it was not uncommon during math class or when he was taking attendance for a neighborhood cat to come strolling down the dusty linoleum of the hall with their little claws clicking or to jump gracefully through the open second-floor window to bring him a dead bird or some other not quite deceased offering of kinship.

Then there had been her mother’s childhood friend Frieda who had someone gotten the attention of Olokun and had ended up being an extremely highly paid lifeguard on the splendidly beautiful and crowded Copacabana Beach because just her presence near the ocean would prevent anyone from drowning.  As far as Nor knew, Frieda didn’t even know how to swim….

But far more often were those other cases, many of which they read about in picture books as small children, since warned early and often was the safest.  The boy who had taken a dare to run out in a rainstorm and had every house he lived in flooded or struck by hail sent by Tlaloc. The girl who had compared her beauty to that of Nanaya who had been then been made so beautiful she was forced to wear a mask whenever she left her house to keep herself from being followed by hordes of lovestruck admirers who would never give her a moment’s peace, in addition to often beating each other to pulps with jealousy.

Honoria had always played it safe.  She respected the gods in general, without choosing one to worship specifically, making polite obsequiences when she passed streetside shrines or saw offering in corners.  When near the various temples that dotted State Street, the inner Drive, and lower Wacker, she would avert her eyes from their open doors and never respond to exhortations of their priests.  

Even those of Ceres, who always had trays of fresh baked cookies.

So she’d been safe. Until that day in the forest preserves.

Nor had been house and dog sitting for a friend in the suburbs.  It was July and hot as hell so she decided to take Gus, Mary’s little white terrier, for a walk.  They had gone through the park - carefully avoiding followers of Saraswati who were sitting in a circle playing music to draw people into dancing - stopping at the White Hen to get them both some water, before going into the lush, cool forest.

Even then, if she had just stayed on the main path or at least some of the other ones that had been made by joggers and teenagers over the years, she would have been fine.  But there had been something… something had made her take Gus off of the paths. Maybe it was the drone of insects punctuated by bird song and the smell of the heavy green air.  Maybe it was the sight of purple wildflowers and brilliantly orange daylilies luring her deeper into the forest. A forest of enormous oaks, some fallen and decaying beautifully under blankets of moss and tiny mushrooms.  

A forest that was clearly godhaunted, consecrated, and hallowed.  Though in her defence, Nor had never heard of any of the gods bothering much with the suburbs.

Realizing she was in a sanctified space Nor heel turned hard and started back to the trail.

That Gus at that moment, who had been happily trotting along on his little legs next to her, occasionally stopping to bark at a cardinal or to nose under plants and fallen limbs in pursuit of voles, managed to slip his leash to dart after a red squirrel, the most intensely russet coloured squirrel that Nor had ever seen, was later more than a bit suspicious.

“Gus!” she whispered as loud as she could.  “Gus! Get your ass back here…” she tripped over roots and vines that grabbed at her ankles, scratching her legs from the tops of her socks to the bottom of her shorts, running bent over to try and catch the little dog.  “I have bacon!” she frankly lied to him, knowing just the sound of the word ‘bacon’ would normally be enough to get his attention.

Nothing.  

She lost sight of him as he entered what had to be a little grove in a clearing in the forest.  

Groves were never good.

Gods just LOVED groves.

Just the sight of it scared her silly.

Nor pulled up, stopping herself before she entered it, torn between loyalty to her friend and Gus, and her very logical terror of what seemed to be a sacred space  _ inside of another _ sacred space.

The air was redolent with flowers and ozone.  

With a squaring of her shoulders, and her eyes firmly on the ground, she stepped between two of the oaks. 

In the circle of trees, it was quieter than anywhere else in the woods.  Just the sound of the leaves rubbing against each other and the limbs of the oaks moaning as they stirred in the breeze.  The ground was thick with lilies of the valley and when she stepped on them the air was perfumed with them as well as the even stronger smell of ozone, smoke, and charred wood.

In the center of the trees was the largest ash that had clearly been struck by lightning.  It was split, though still standing and somehow alive, even though where it had been hit the wood had burned, leaving the heart of it exposed to the air all of the way to the forest floor.  

The squirrel Gus had chased had taken refuge high in that tree and was now chittering with aggressive mockery at the wildly barking dog.  Nor walked over, intent on picking him up quickly and getting out of the forest, except he chose that moment to lift his leg, showing the squirrel just what he thought of him.

And he kept peeing.

And peeing.

It didn’t seem possible that such a little dog could hold that much liquid.  

Despite herself, Nor sniffed a bit of a laugh.  The inappropriateness and her nerves were getting the better of her. 

The stream continued.

A giggle erupted from her firmly closed lips.

A puddle started to form in the cracked opening of the lightning struck tree.

Nor gave up, and huge, snorting, bellows of laughter escaped her.

“Shit…” came a soft voice, “this is soooo bad.”

A young man stood just inside the grove.  In his hands, he held a bottle of bourbon, a can of whipped cream, two red tapers, and a rubber snake, all clearly meant as offerings.  He was dressed in green sweatpants and clashing red t-shirt. His arms were covered with elaborate Norse tattoos, entwining the Kenaz rune over and over again.  Around his neck, there was a heavy torc of two entwined snakes. A priest if she’d ever seen one.

Nor’s head whipped back to the tree.  The lightning struck tree. That the dog she was responsible for had just  _ flooded  _ with urine.

She knew which god the grove was sacred to.

And she knew she was monumentally fucked.

 

Loki looked down from where he had turned from a squirrel into a magpie.  The woman was squatting down, her face buried in her hands, repeating, “No, no, not Him.  Anyone but Him….”

The little dog placed his muddy, pissy paws on her bare leg and snuffled affectionately against her coffee-brown hair.  

His priest, Jakob, stood like a lump, his eyes wide with terror.  Loki dismissed him and stared at the woman again. 

“Oh, but yes…. Me, Me, Me... ” He sang down to her.  She did not understand the language of birds but still, as if sensing that the song boded her no good, she shivered.

Loki’s eyes followed the tremble that moved through her limbs, across her skin, the slight opening of her lips.  It was impossible for a bird to smile and yet He did, then He pushed off of the air with a flap of wings and was gone.

 

It started as soon as she got home from house-sitting.  

Honoria had burned dozens of Protection Vigil candles and washed the front stoop of Mary’s house with Chinese wash because her friend didn’t deserve to come home to ruin and wreckage.  

First, it was small things.  Terribly annoying things, but small.  Salt that turned into sugar when she sprinkled it on her fries.  Sugar that turned to salt in her coffee. The bristles of her toothbrush coming loose and leaving her picking them out of her mouth all day.

At work, reports that she spent days working on would print out in Urdu, Esperanto, or Middle French.

Her friends started to think of reasons to not meet her for drinks after every table they sat at would wobble and they would be sent drinks by mystery men who the waiters could never seem to identify.  Lots of drinks. Too many drinks for a wobbly table. 

On a date, the candle on the table flared up when the guy she’d been set up with reached for her hand.  At least the short hairstyle Nor got the next day suited her. Mostly.

She soldiered on.  What choice did she have?  Her boss allowed her to have coworkers print her work for her.  She would grab a beer and text with her friends most nights. And she had a vibrator.

Then it got more dramatic.

One morning Nor went to turn on her kitchen light and discovered that every single light-bulb in her house was missing.  Even the one in the fridge.

Her car disappeared.  There seemed to be no evidence that it had ever existed when she went to look for the title.  In its place was a mint green Vespa scooter with two flat tires.

Nor’s boss told her they would no longer be needing her to come in after her desk turned into a gnu and destroyed thousands of dollars in office equipment before hiding in the supply closet and turning back into a desk.  They had to remove part of the wall to get it out. 

At least, because she was god-touched, they gave her a large severance package and all of her unused vacation time pay.    

Only Loki was allowed to mess with her, apparently.

 

Loki lounged on the roof of Honoria’s little house in the form of a green and black tabby, one paw hanging off of the side and watched her as she carried the effects from her desk into her house.  

She was a game little mortal. 

After a while, He dropped down to the sill of her bedroom window and watched as she stripped off her work dress and changed into sweats and a t-shirt and then flopped onto her bed with a sigh.

A very delectable, game little mortal.

 

Over the two weeks after Honoria was let go from work these events occurred.

Nor’s house was broken into and everything she owned was replaced with perfect replicas, she woke up one morning able to speak Old Norse, there was a day where everything she touched froze solid and another when it would catch fire (she spent that day in the tub and emerged pruny and with a cough), the drawer where she kept her vibrator burst open as it produced arms full of high-end sex toys, snakes came out of her faucets and disappeared  _ somewhere _ in her house, the park where she liked to drink coffee and read turned into a grilled cheese sandwich on rye bread until she left, all of her underwear, including the old, tattered black ones she wore when she was having her period, turned into scanty bits of silk and satin in every shade of green from celedon to midnight.

Her hair turned at different times pink, grey,  black, puce, and an ombre that ran from white at the crown to pumpkin at the tips.

Her socks all mispaired themselves.

She couldn’t have an orgasm - although Nor was pretty certain that was stress rather than direct, godly intervention.

 

Loki, in the form of a black rat, crouched next to Honoria’s piano and listened with closed eyes as she played and sang.  For a moment He considered doing something to the old piano, an inheritance from a dead relative, but when she started another song He found Himself setting that trick aside.

 

All of it she endured.  There was no choice. At some point, Loki would get bored and move on to someone else.  She had to believe that. Moreover, she refused to be beaten by a petulant deity just because a dog had peed on a tree.  Gus was a dog. They were just like that and the sooner Loki got over it the better. 

But the morning she woke up and discovered that every song that she had on vinyl, old CDs, or download had turned into “Mmmm Mmmmm Mmmmm” by the Crash Test Dummies, Nor found her breaking point.

 

Fall was in full swing and the forest was dressed for a party.

It was almost dark.  Nor had left her Vespa a few blocks from the forest.  The streets of the old, quiet suburb were mostly empty, save for a dog walker here or a jogger there.  Some kids had started a leaf fire and the air was perfumed with its smoke.

The priest, Jakob, hadn’t been very helpful when she contacted him about how to get Loki off of her back.  Actually, he had been tits on a bull useless.

“Um… yeah, I don’t think there is a way.  In fact, trying to get Him to go away is probably just going to egg Him on.  He’s like that, right?”

He’d refused to meet her in person, admitting that he was terrified of standing too close to her, so they’d talked on the phone.  In the background, she could here Bjork playing really loud and lots of bar noises.

“Where are you?”

“The temple,” he answered.  “Listen, I suppose you could like… try and propitiate Him somehow.  Take some offering to the site of the, er, offense. Abase yourself.  That kind of thing. But not too much. He doesn’t like a pushover.”

Nor had bristled and hung up.  The idea of abasing herself was too much.

Then her ringtone started  _ Mmmm, mmming _ at her and she figured it was worth a shot.

It was easier to find her way back to the grove that she would have thought.  The deeper she walked into the forest the more vivid the colors of the trees. The most brilliant shades of red and yellow, sugar maples that looked like their leaves were burning, oaks that were practically purple.  If she took a wrong step the trees were less vivid and she would quickly find her way back.

The grove itself was practically incandescent in the gloaming, and when she stepped into it the leaves seemed to offer their own light.  It was beautiful and like nothing Nor had ever seen.

The great, lightning struck tree seemed to still smolder even though weeks and weeks had passed.  The remains of offerings to Loki that were left there and then burned floated cinders and ash through the air.

“Alright,” she thought to herself, “here goes nothing.”

Nor knelt before the tree, after setting down her heavy, overstuffed backpack with a groan, and started unpacking.  A snake carved to birch. Handfuls of cinnamon sticks. An apple stuffed coffee cake. A bottle of Fireball and another of Tej.  A necklace of hematite and another of gold beads and amber that she’d had to sell her piano to afford. Several books of matches from various strip clubs.  A slab of brown sugar bacon. One of those dildos He’d ‘gifted’ her with. The really improbable one. Her three favorite books. Some loose stones from the nature store, all red and green.  

Finally, having arrayed everything, Nor doused it with the cheapest whisky she’d been able to find and set everything alight, then cleared her throat.  Moving back away from the smoke that smelled mostly of melting plastic and bacon, she knelt again.

“Um, I have never prayed before. I don’t think I know how.  But Your priest mentioned that You like creative things. Music.  So… anyway… here.”

Holding her hands up like she was holding a bowl and closing her eyes, Nor sang -

Bitter garden, bitter leaf

Bitter earth, bitter seed

Nothing here is sacred, dear

All things wild

You're gone now for so long, you grown a child

And when you were young

You used to plea

When you were young

You used to plea to make me believe

Nothing sacred (ooh, ah), all things wild

Nothing sacred (ooh, ah), all things wild

Bitter water, bitter sea

Bitter dirt, bitter tea

Everything we do is a mess

But oh, honey, may this mess be blessed

And when we were young

We knew everything

And when we were young

We claimed to sing and kick and scream

All things sacred, nothing wild

All things sacred, nothing wild.

 

“Well,” came a purring voice, richer and deeper than any of the whisky or chocolates she had brought, teased at her ear with almost painfully hot breath, “now wasn’t that pretty....”  

The hot, heavy smell of the burning offering was suddenly sweeter and made her a little dizzy, but in a way that she liked.  

That her whole body liked.  She felt her cunt growing wet and soft, her nipples hard and eager, her skin tender and almost aching.

Nor opened her eyes.  

The god floated before her.  Clad only in the necklaces she’d brought as an offering and His long masses of burning red hair.  Burning so hot that some of the curls were almost blue with heat, and sparks flew from the tips, singeing her sweater. It moved about as if drifting on its own heat. His head was crowned with two great, golden horns that spiraled, the tips glistening with their sharpness.

They were unlike any horns Nor had ever seen on a beast.  

“Of course not,” she thought to herself in a daze.  They were His horns, only His.

There was no beauty to compare to Loki’s.  The tilt of His brows, the plane of His cheek, the angle of His jaw, the sharpness of it all cut her to look at.  

His eyes, green with flickers of flame within, were half-lidded and lazy.  Nor quickly looked away from them. It was rude to meet a god’s gaze.

He stretched in a languid fashion that showed each bit of perfect lean muscle in his torso and long neck.  He stepped down from where He floated, so His elegant feet were in the fiery offering she had made. The fire licked His leg like an affectionate hound.

Nor was maybe ever so slightly jealous of that fire.

“Have you not been enjoying My attentions, My  _ verdsatt dødelig _ ?  I have so enjoyed giving them to you.  I should hate to stop now. There is so much more I have for you.  Fun and surprises and presents. Many, many presents.”

He reached down and ran a sharp fingernail across her cheekbone and then under her chin to lift her head.  To make her meet His eyes. 

His pupils were vast and black and too easy to fall into.

This was not good.  Being seduced by a god created all sorts of problems.  Everyone knew that. Honoria had enough problems already.  Like finding new homeowner’s insurance since her old policy didn’t have a divine wrath clause.

Nor’s words fell over themselves, as she tried to get her penance back on track, “I am heartily sorry for having offended you oh great god, Loki, Liesmith, Wild-fire, Spinner of Nets and Tales, Father of Monsters, Sin-sly, Mother of the Best of Horses, Apple-thief, Long walker, Husband of S-”

Loki waved her words away with an elegant hand, “Yes, yes, I understand.  But it was a  _ grave _ offense. Funny, but grave.  I think I will take a little more than this,” He looked dismissively at her almost entirely consumed offering, “to be properly,” he drew out each word, “propitiated….  You want to properly propitiate me, do you not,  _ liten skatt _ ?”

Each word was like a stroke across Nor’s skin.  At the place where her neck met her shoulder. Down the small of her back.  Her lips. His voice was both feral and sophisticated, like Him, capable of anything should it be savage or decadent.

From where she knelt before Him, Nor also realized that the dildo she had just set on fire wasn’t  _ nearly _ as improbable as she thought it was.  His cock was as beautiful as the rest of him, furling forth from its nest of red curls, long and with just the slightest, most elegant of curves to it where it would tease perfectly inside of her.

Honoria gave up.  She wanted to give up.

Loki took Himself in hand, stroking once or twice, “Would you like to touch your lips to Me?  To take this into that tuneful hole of yours and suck?”

Nor nodded, feeling a little hypnotized and out of control, and liking it.

He stepped forward, and Nor found herself nuzzling the soft hair on His thigh, then the underside of His cock, before taking the wide tip into her wet mouth.  The musky, sweet smell of His skin was so intense she closed her eyes and moaned about Him where He stretched her lips and sucked softly. There was the heavy, wonderful weight of His sacred balls in her hand as well.  

The size of Him should have overwhelmed her, had her gagging and tearing.  Instead He fit in her perfectly and she closed her eyes at the pleasure of the long invasion of Him.

His long fingers dug into her hair like a blessing, and she could feel Him rock back slightly onto His heel.  “You have the mouth of a goddess, no, better than a goddess or a god for that matter. I’ve had my cock in many a divine mouth and they do none of them compare to yours.”

Though He spoke with no more intensity than He might order a mocha the clutch of His hands and the noises He made between the words told a different story.  Nor worked her tongue around Him, coiling and tracing patterns where she could, then sucking Him back in as deep as she could. 

It was like a form of prayer and was certainly a form of worship.  For the first time in her life Nor wondered if there might be something to this ‘god’ business.

When He came, sweet and salty and like nothing she had ever tasted, she had to grab the back of His splendid thighs to keep from flying.  His hips juttered forward as His head fell back and a howl of near pain burst from Him, setting leaves to falling about them like wildfire.

He stayed hard.

The impulse to keep sucking, to make Him spill, again and again, to keep worshipping Him with her mouth meant she actually put up a fight when He loosed Himself from her mouth and touch.  “Now, now,” He lifted her into His arms. “No need to cry.” He wiped a tear that Nor was surprised to see from her cheek and then whispered in her ear as if to tell her a secret, “We are so very far from done.”

With a stroke of His hand Nor’s clothing burned away in a flash of heat that left her skin pink.  She wasn’t caught by the fire yet here and there a spark touched her skin and she jerked. On her arm, on her legs, one landing on her nipple making it tighter and more sensitive, one finding its way to her clit, making her breath catch with a little fear and more arousal.

“Oh, how sad.”  Loki laid her down in a bed made of russet leaves and the masses of His mane of hair and proceeded to kiss each place.  A soft buss to the inside of her elbow. A drag of His thin lips over the marks on her calf. A teasing lick to her nipple followed by a hard bite that she should have hated but wanted more of.  Then, parting her legs, a laving of her clit. A massaging with that agile tongue. “Now how strange,” He drawled. “You are burning within as well. I can feel the fire just pouring out of you. How did one of those nasty sparks get in there?  I can tell it must be agony by the way you are writhing and moaning and gasping for dear life. Shall I help you? Shall I lick it all better?”

Nor couldn’t decide if she hated Him or thought He was hilarious.  Then, one slender fingertip teased at her opening, “So hot. Growing hotter, is it not?”

Suddenly, she was burning, like a brand of fire was fucking her.  It was terrible. She loved it. It had to stop and it had to go on.  “Please… please… please.” When had been the last time she had come? Not since the last time she was in this forest and the awareness of each time she’d tried and failed made it worse.

“Sing for me, Honoria,” Loki said, gently fucking her with His fingers as He returned His mouth to her.  His other hand spread possessively over her stomach, pushing down slightly as His nails scratched tenderly.  Taking her clit into His lips, He suckled with the same devotion she had offered Him, even as two other fingers entered her, spreading her wide, finding places that made her squeal, and shake, and gush.

Still, she didn’t come.  Her legs shook hard and dripped sweat where they lay over His broad, hot shoulders.  Nor wanted to lift her arms, to touch that amazing hair, but the weight of her desire, her lust, held her down.  She could only lay and allow.

It went on forever.  It seemed as if the sky should have gotten darker.  As if the moon glowing above them should have moved.  Everything seemed perfectly still and silent but the sounds of her harsh, needy breathing, the sloppy, gloriousness of His feeding on her, the encouraging murmurs of His voice when she grew wetter when her cunt started to pulse helplessly around those cruel fingers that never quite let her find release.

If she didn’t come she was going to commit deiticide and to Hel with the punishment.

As if He could hear her thoughts, Loki gave a dry, ratcheting laugh.  “Never fear. I have no intention of leaving you unsatisfied. I simply want to make tonight…  _ special.“ _  He lifted Himself up to look at her face, His head tilted softly, with a strangely affectionate smile on His lips, “After all, I have never waited so long for a lover.  I’ve never waited at all, to be truthful. Though it is bitter in my mouth, the truth. How do you mortals stand it?”

“Wh-ahhh!”  He had returned to her work.

When the orgasm finally came, Nor felt Him plunge His hand deeper within her than she’d ever had a lover, or herself, touch.  Then He just barely laid a firm, burning fingertip on a spot and pressed hard as He nipped at her clit.

Her fingers dug into the loam and her hips rose to the sky like an offering and her legs wrapped about His head to trap Him in place as her cunt became a deluge, open and wild with pleasure as she used the god to make it go on and on.

Before the last pulse, Loki apparated so His mouth was no longer on her, but His cock was in her, being pulled deep and deeper still by the force of the orgasm that started up again now that it had something so thick and long to hold and be comforted by.  His hips ground down and the incredible weight of His searing body should have broken her. Rather, it was as if her body had been created to bear that weight. To be stretched and used and worshipped and debauched by Him.

“Again,  _ liten skatt _ ,  _ verdsatt dødelig,  _ My Honoria, My lark, Mine…”  The music of His voice was darker and rougher as He moved from the lithe finesse of working His hips snakelike to thrusting hard and harder, to driving into her like the mad thing that He was.

Entirely out of control, Nor wrapped herself about Him, like a vine on a tree and let Him make her come until she forgot that she’d ever had an existence outside of Loki.

When He came, finally, when the sky did start to turn light and time seemed to have started again, He sat up on His knees held only her hips and used her boneless, mindless body to fuck Himself to another howling, tree-shaking close.

Then He kissed her.

The gentleness of it, as He brushed His lips to hers.  The tenderness as His tongue gently explored and teased and all grew lush and soft that had been desperate and fierce.  He cradled her head in one of His big hands and stroked her throat with the other and kissed her as if there was nothing else in all of the world but that kiss.  

The kiss of the loneliest god alive.

The force of it was more than a mortal body could contain.  Honoria felt her heart expand and expand as she clutched at Him, longing for more and finally burst.

 

Sigyn woke up covered in leaves like a blanket that had been pulled over Her face.

A gentle hand moved them away, and She looked up into Her husband’s eyes as He leaned over Her, smiling fondly.  “I thought you would never wake up.”

“It’s rather exhausting come back into one’s godhood.”

Loki touched Her hair, Her face, everywhere, with tears in His burning eyes.  “You hid from Me for so long… I looked and looked, but You were nowhere. Hiding in a mortal, so clever.”  Then, with a sob, “But You can’t hide that ridiculous laugh of yours…”

Sigyn took His hand and kissed His palm, “I was very angry with You.  You were…. You should not have done what You did.”

“And yet I must be Who I am.  Don’t leave me again, _ min liten skatt.” _

Sigyn shook Her head, “No.  It’s too lonely. I’ll have to punish You another way next time.  Something that You won’t see coming.”

He lay down, pulling Her to lay on His heart, “Promise?” He asked with a hopeful lilt to His beautiful voice.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Honoria's prayer song is Nothing Sacred / All Things Wild by Kevin Morby - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-GDoK1LK6Q


End file.
